Heroes: Hunted
by Rougeification
Summary: My name is Danny. That's about all I know. I woke up in New York in a dumpster and found that I can do certain things. As I try to live a normal life, I find myself being drawn into one I don't want. As I try to figure out who I really am, I'm pursued by a series of gunmen, and, in particular - one woman. OC, inc strong language and Skyelah's Company Agent. Set post-s1 through 1x23
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Awake.

Clasping at air.

Beeps.

Yells.

Scared.

Loud.

Hands were placed on my shoulders, keeping me restrained on my back. I looked around at the blue images, light staring into me. Something pierced my neck. I felt something coming into my blood. I slowly dropped my arms. They were so heavy. They slumped down onto the bed, and the beeping slowed. I tried to keep my eyes open. I had to warn them.

"Keep him sedated."

I tried to reach out to push away the hands, falling down and back into the bed. I was out as soon as I hit the pillow.

I woke up slowly, looking around. Images were blurred, but I could see what was around me. I saw something gold in front of me. Sound blurred into my ears. I closed my eyes, looking away. I tried to focus on what was around me. There were a series of machines hooked up to me. Was I locked up? They had found me. I tried to look for a way out.

"Hey," the golden blur spoke to me "you're okay." Lies. It was all lies. I tried to push myself up, failing. My arms felt too heavy to lift. I looked up at the blur again, my vision improving to reveal a girl, wearing a white blouse and a pair of jeans. Her golden hair dropped down to her shoulders. "I'm Lauren."

I looked her up and down. She didn't have anywhere to hide a gun. No holster visible. But she wasn't a doctor or a nurse.

"Who are you?" I said groggily.

"I was here when they brought you in." She said. "I figured you would want to talk. After all, you're a very special boy." I look around quickly for other people. Anyone in a suit. "You've led us on quite a merry chase." She said. "We've been looking for you for a very long time." I looked at her face carefully.

"What do you want with me?"  
"We just want to find some things out about you." I scoffed in response. "You shouldn't have made it this hard."

My arms started to feel more solid – more in control. I stayed slumped in the pillows, so I wouldn't get another sedative shot into me. As Lauren smiled, I noticed a man walk from behind, a man dressed in a grey suit with horn-rimmed glasses. A bulge in his jacket told me who he was. What he was. I looked around, for my clothes. Nowhere to be seen. I was wearing some blue hospital scrubs on my legs and that was it. "So, maybe you're interested about your…abilities?"

"I already know what I can do." I said.

"I very much doubt that." She said. "What you can do is only a fraction of what you're capable of." I watched the man in the horn-rimmed glasses open the door, starting to enter the room. I slowly grabbed the wallet off of the bedside ounter. "Now, if you come with us-"

I leapt up out of the bed and jumped over the top of the woman, sprinting for the doorway and shoving the man into the corridor, while making my way down the hall. I sprinted in my bare feet, and upon seeing another man in a suit, I dodged out of the way of his outstretched arms and hauled myself over his shoulder, sprinting down to the elevator doors and diving into the lift, hitting as many buttons as I can. Only after realising my mistake. I jumped up and kicked open a panel, jumping out into the shaft. I looked down at the cables and jumped onto one, shimmying my way down to another elevator, which was thankfully vacant.

I pressed the first floor and waited calmly in the elevator, placing the wallet in the pocket of the scrubs. I started to hear hurried footsteps and radio crackle as I approached the first floor. I moved my feet to shoulder width, while placing my left first, coiled to sprint forwards. As the doors opened I sprinted forwards with all my speed. I was past the line of armoured gunmen by the time they started shooting. I was heading for the double doors – I was almost out of there. So close.

I burst out of the doors and instinctively bared right. I ran around and into the alleyway, leaping to jump up the ladder on the fire escape, catching the bottom bar and climbing my way up it. I hoisted myself up onto the metallic surface and started to run up the stairs. I reached the top of the escape and jumped up onto the roof of the building and started to sprint to the edge, I was running slower for some reason. My feet suddenly started to hurt from the stone floor. I was out of breath. I slowed down as I got the edge, looking down at the alley way below. I could jump that distance. I was sure of it. I had done it before. I took a few steps to jump but as I started to move forwards, a voice from behind stopped me.

"That would be a very bad idea." I looked around at the horn-rimmed glasses behind me. The man was pointing a large gun directly at me, a younger African man behind him, focusing on me. "You're impressive, I'll give you that." I looked at the younger man behind him, who was looking at me, dead in the eye. "But that's a magic trick compared to my friend here." He said, moving in on me. "Take him in."

The second man moved towards me, watching me warily for any movement. I breathed heavily, any second now I would move from his movement. I threw a punch, which he grabbed and threw me down onto the roof. I was dumb-founded by this. That was not normal – no one was ever fast enough to defend themselves. They couldn't do it.

As the man proceeded to reach out a hand, I kicked him in the chest and scrambled to my feet, sprinting to the edge of the roof and jumping off of the top, arms flailing as I sailed through the air. There were no sounds of anyone shooting at me. As I fell through the air I started to feel stronger – more flexible, no limits on my limbs. I slammed onto the edge of the rooftop, pulling myself up without difficulty. I looked around at the duo, who stayed on the rooftop, looking at me in disbelief. The older man let his gun point at the ground as he realised he wouldn't catch me. I breathed heavily. How could the man do that – he took away my agility. My reflexes, my speed – it was like he slowed me down. I wasn't going to stay around to figure out how and turned around, fleeing from them. I sprinted, jumping the next alley with more ease, until I kicked open the door, running through the staircases until I came to a corridor, leading out into the street.

I sprinted out into the streets, looking around for a way out. Somewhere no one will look. I saw the taxi cab, driven by an older man, with a business exiting. I sprinted into it, jumping in.

"Drive." The driver turned around to look at me, examing me in my hospital clothes.  
"Where to?" He asked hesitantly.  
"Anywhere." I said hurriedly. He nodded slowly, and began to drive, running a red light and turning around the corner and disappearing from sight. The cab journey was completely silent.

We ended up outside an apartment block, the driver getting out and giving me his long overcoat, gesturing for me to follow him into the building. I did so until we came to the top of the building, the cab driver silently unlocking the door and leading me into the room.

It was cluttered everywhere – a board with a map up on one side of the wall, almost taking up all of it. Upon the map where a series of strings and post-its. I walked behind the desk in front and began to examine it.

"What's this?" I asked him, examining the strings.  
"Very important work." He said, walking in after me, closing the door and locking it.

"Thank you." I said, turning around to face him. "For helping me." I offered him the coat, which he took. He started to look at the small needle marks over my arms. "I'm not an addict." I said. "It's from the hospital." The doctor nodded.

"Care to explain what happened?"  
"You wouldn't believe me." I said, shaking my head.  
"Really?"  
I shook my head, looking back to the board. I noticed one post it at the corner that rang a bell.  
"Hey, the Human Genome Project." I said, pointing. "I remember that."  
"You do?" He asked.  
"Yeah, I gave blood a couple of years ago." I said. "So did my dad, it was a publicity stunt." I nodded. I stopped then, realising how I just slipped up.  
"Really?"  
"Story for another time." I nodded.  
"What's your name?" He asked, moving over to a cabinet, pulling out various files.

"McKniel." I said cautiously, watching him root through the files until he pulled out one.  
"Robert?"  
"No." I said, letting him pull out another one.  
"Daniel?"  
"Yeah."  
He beamed at me.  
"Have you been noticing anything outside the norm?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "An…an ability that you never had before?"  
"An ability?" I asked cynically.  
"Rapid Cell Regeneration? Levitation? Telekinesis?"  
"Regeneration? Telekinesis?" I asked with a smile. "I'm sorry, I think I left my cape at the Daily Planet." I shook my head. "I just need some clothes, and I'll be on my way."

"Could I at least run some tests on you?" He asked.

"What sort of tests?"  
"Nothing that'll take a long time. Just some questions." I sighed. This man had helped me escape. I owed him.  
"Fine. Can I get dressed first? It's kind of cold in here." The man nodded, and led me over to the one bedroom in the apartment, pulling out some jeans, a t-shirt and a blue chequered shirt. "Wow, stylish." I grinned as I pulled on the t-shirt.  
"They're my son's."  
"Never too young to sleep in his dad's bed huh?" I grinned. "He live nearby?"  
"No," the man said "he's still in India." I nodded.

"That explains the accent." I said slowly. "Well, you don't look like a politician. Come all this way for a cab driving conference?"  
"I'm a doctor." He said, amused by my comment. "I study genetics."

"That's how you're connected to the Genome Project." I stated.

"Yes. I've already found people. People who can do extraordinary things." He smiled. I stood there for a full minute, looking at him uncertainly.  
"Could you back up a bit please? I'm trying to change and no offense, but you seem kind of creepy…" The man restored his composure, moving back into the main room with the map. I put on the jeans and pulled on the chequered shirt, leaving it unbuttoned but rolling up the sleeves. I pulled on the socks and a pair of leather converses, walking back into the main room. "Well, the shoes fit." I said, scratching the back of my head. The doctor offered me a cup of tea, which I took, smiling. It wasn't as sweet as I liked, but I hadn't had tea in such a time that I didn't care enough to bring it up. "So…erm…" I waited awkwardly until the doctor nodded.  
"Chandra Suresh."

"Right." I nodded. "What were these questions?" He gestured for me to sit down at the table with him, where his laptop sat. He sat down in front of the laptop as I moved to sit on the other side of the desk.

"Have you experienced anything outside the norm?"  
"What's outside the norm?"

"An ability you didn't have before-"

I sighed.  
"I'm good at climbing." I said, hopelessly.

"Good at climbing?" He repeated. I shook my head.  
"Since two years ago, I just started to climb. Really fast."  
"Did you climb before?"  
"Nope. Not at all." Chandra nodded and tapped a few keys on his laptop before looking back at me.

"Anything else?"  
"It's like…everything is enhanced." Chandra's face changed to bemusement. "Like, I can hear a conversation a block away, I can sprint faster then anyone else I know, I can dodge anything." Chandra nodded, typing this down as he did so. He moved to take a USB, only to knock over his mug of tea. I moved a hand and caught the cup the moment it fell off the table. Chandra beamed at me again.  
"Amazing." He said. "Your reflexes are amazing. They're extraordinary." I jumped my eyebrows. "How do you use your ability?"  
"I don't." I said. "It's not an ability. I just…it's natural. It's like instinct. I just…know how to climb. And the other stuff."

"So, it's passive."  
"Sure." I said.

"Do your parents have any abilities like this?"  
"I don't know."  
"Your father?"  
"We aren't really on speaking terms."

"Your mother?"  
"Dead." I said flatly. He nodded solemnly.  
"I'm sorry." He said.  
"Yeah well…" I trailed off, awaiting his next question.

"So, what do you do as a job?"  
"Well, I'm sort of between jobs at the moment." I shrugged. Suresh typed that down.

"What part of Ireland are you from?"  
"You a doctor of phonetics too?" I asked with a grin. "Dublin. Near the North Dock."

"But you moved around since then?"  
"Been in New York for four years."

Chandra nodded. He got up and walked to the kitchen to get something, coming back and sitting down, knocking off the mug again. This time, I tried to catch it, but by the time I outstretched my arm it was shattered on the floor.  
"I guess no one has flawless powers."  
I began to realise how aware I was of my limbs. I shook my head. Sound was muffled now.

"We have to get out of here." I said, getting up and walking to the window and opening it, poking my head out to look for a fire escape. There was none. Just the street below, as I saw a black van parked outside. "That's them."  
"Who?"

"They're coming for me." I said. "Is there anyway out of this place?"

"You said you can climb-"

"It's complicated. I need to go now." I said.

He nodded.  
"Go outside, run past the stairs and through the window – there's a fire escape there." I nodded.

"Thank you Chandra." I said. I jogged into the bedroom, taking the wallet from the scrubs and shoving it into the jean pockets. I ran out of the door, closing it quietly and running around the corner to the staircase, peeking down to look for any armed men coming up. I heard them before I saw them, and crept to the window, opening it and climbing out onto the fire escape. I started to slowly go down the stairs, careful to skirt around the windows.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, jumping down onto a dumpster and rolling off into the alleyway. I ran back through the alleyway, leading to the other side of the block. I looked around at people, watching them move around. As I looked around, however, I saw a cab pull up in front of me. A door opened as I saw the African man who dulled my senses sitting there in the drivers seat. I turned to run but the voice stopped me.

"Don't." The man in horn-rimmed glasses sat there, watching me intently with a gun pointed at me. "You can't dodge bullets this time." I clenched my jaw in anger. "Get in the car." I breathed deeply, and did as I was instructed. I sat in the car, watching the man with the gun carefully as we started to drive. "Good."

"How did you find me?" I asked.  
"It wasn't hard. Just looked for sightings of a boy jumping around rooftops. Not that common." I shook my head.

"Son of a bitch…" I shook my head. Careless. I was careless.

"Now, we're going to take a plane back to the facility, where-"

I pushed the gun out of my way, pointing it into the front of the car, then shoved him out of the car, pushing him into the traffic. I threw my hands around the driver's neck, trying to choke him out. He grabbed my arm and swung the car around into an alleyway. I flew around to the other side of the cab, my head hitting the window. The car screeched to a halt. I opened the door and stumbled out of the cab, making my way down the alleyway. I turned around quickly to see the man there following me. I threw a sloppy punch in his face, unbalancing myself and dropping onto my side. The man lifted me up and threw me against a dumpster. I tried to push myself up, but he threw me back against the wall. He held my arm across my chest in a pressure point.  
"I am sorry, but in order to play your part, you cannot be who you are now." I tried to tell him to explain, but was too shocked and overwhelmed to say anything. I was just too confused. He moved a hand towards my forehead, as his necklace dropped into my view. It was the Kensei sign. I knew about it. I had it too…

His hands covered my eyes, causing me to scream in pain as I felt him tear my head apart, mutilating my brain in pieces. Then blackness.

**That's it for Chapter One guys. It's a long one, but it's more of a prologue. You get to know the character a bit and it sets up the story. I'm trying to work on several other stories, but will try to update as much as I can. If you have any questions please ask – any suggestions, please tell. Anyhow, I've been working on this all day so I'm going to let you read.**

Also, I'm looking for someone who can write a POV about a certain character. PM me for further information if you're interested in writing – for spoiler purposes, I won't give any information on this person – only that they have an ability.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I don't know what's stranger – waking up in a dumpster with no idea how I got there, or the fact that that's all I can remember. Nothing before that. I try to remember and it's just…darkness. Nothing.

I sat against the side of the dumpster, rubbing my head. What happened? My head felt like it had been ripped in two. I looked around at my surroundings. I was in an alleyway – a dark and grotty one at that. Light leaked through from the streets – acting as my beacon. I pushed myself up and staggered over to the lights, looking around. Cars were slowly moving past me, crowds of people going in all directions. The began to bump into me. I looked around at them, shocked by their rudeness. They looked at me up and down, like I was something out of the ordinary. I shook my head and began to walk, then I realised. Where was I going? I continued to walk for a couple of blocks, until I came to a halt. I heard something. Someone. The sound was so intense. I covered my ears, leaning against an alley way to keep myself up. I could hear someone whimpering, asking for help. She was yelling it now – I thought my eardrums were about to explode. I looked up to see a young girl in an adjacent alleyway, a tall and dark figure advancing on her. I started to walk towards them, the sound subsiding in my ears for the time being.

"Hey!" I called over, walking through the gridlocked roads and over to the alley. "Hey!" I repeated, making the man turned around to see me, and instantly raise a hand to halt me at the entrance of the alley.  
"Walk away." He said calmly. I looked at the whimpering woman behind him, backed up against the wall – petrified and motionless. "Are you stupid? I said walk away." I took a few steps forwards.

"Leave her alone." I said loudly, consciously trying to compensate for my lack of a threatening stance. The man advanced on me.  
"You should've kept walking." He said, pulling out a six-inch knife out of his jacket pocket. He lunged into my chest, and, by pure reflex, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it around with a horrific snap. The man scrambled backwards, looking up at me in shock. I moved forewards, picking up the knife. He stood up and took a punch at my head, which I leant back from, grabbing his arm and scratching the knife along his elbow and burying it deep in his chest, underneath his collar bone. The man cried out in pain, falling back and began crawling away. I saw the protruding knife clatter onto the ground as the man got up and begin to run. I looked over to the woman.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking over to her. As she stepped into the dim light from the streets, I began to get an outline of her: she was a lot older then me – probably in her fifties. She wore a long white coat with a fur collar, informing anyone within sight of her wealth.

"I think so." She said, brushing herself off. "I suppose you want me to thank you?" I dropped my mouth open.  
"I…" I what? I didn't know what to say – partially because I had been thrown off by her composed manner. Her thin mouth slowly rotated into a polite smile.

"Well, thank you." She said kindly, which startled me again. "I thought chivalry was dead." I stood there, unable to speak. "Is there something wrong with you?"  
"No." I answered.  
"Oh, so you can speak?"  
"Of course I can speak." I said.

"You should do more of it." She said, pulling her gloves on. I clenched my jaw, looking around at the city.  
"This is going to sound strange," I said looking back at her "but…where are we?" She looked at me carefully, narrowing her eyes.  
"Excuse me?" I swallowed.  
"I know how it sounds." I said, almost apologetic.

"It sounds like you've been in hibernation for too long." I shook my head. The woman proceeded to do the same before she answered. "You're in New York." I scratched the back of my head. Looking around. Where the hell was I going to stay? A park bench?

"Well, thanks."

"Do you know where you're going?" She asked curiously. I shook my head.  
"I don't know." I said. I opened my mouth to explain my lack of knowledge, how I didn't know my name, or how old I was, or even where I was from. But she'd probably call an asylum. I couldn't tell anyone about this. "I'll be fine." I began to walk away, only to get stopped by the woman's authoritative voice.

"What do you do?" She said.

"Beg pardon?"  
"What do you do?" She repeated. "As a job?"  
I thought. What did I do? I have no idea…am I unemployed?

"Nothing. I don't think." I said, more to myself then to her.

"Well, we'll have to rectify that." She said, taking a card out of her bag. "My husband's law firm is one of the biggest and most respected in New York. You could make some money delivering things to them." I nodded, taking the card.

"Thank you." I said, checking the name. "Mrs. Petrelli?" I asked.  
"Call me Angela – 'Mrs.' makes me sound old." I nodded. "And what do I call you?"  
I went to put the card in my pocket, only to feel something already in there. I pulled out a dark brown moleskin wallet. I opened it to see a driver's licence, several notes and a photograph of a boy and a woman, the boy blowing out a birthday cake with 'Danny' on it. The boy must have been me – I noticed my resemblance, and my licence told me I was called Daniel McKniel – but who was the woman?  
"I'm Danny." I said, looking down in the wallet. I placed the card in one of the slots and put it away. "My name's Danny McKniel." Angela nodded.  
"Well Daniel, I'll tell my husband to expect you." I nodded my thanks, allowing her to signal a taxi, and drove off into the night. I looked around and, noticing a large hotel, walked into the building and booking a room with a suspicious look from the receptionist as I paid in cash. I was wondering the same thing – how the hell did I have this much cash? I could tell from my clothes that I wasn't a businessman.

I walked into the hotel room, taking off my clothes in order to shower. It felt good to have hot water on my skin – it was like my first time interacting with water – which was, of course, insane.

I stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed and so much cleaner. I walked over to the mirror, which reflected my thick stubble on my chin. I took the razor and cream out of the cabinet and started to shave.

As I finished, I moved to turn off the water, and that's when I realised the tattoo. On my inner left forearm, I had a strange symbol of black ink imprinted on my skin. It was like half of a DNA strand, like an 'S' symbol crossed with an "f". I started to examine the tattoo. What did it mean? Why did I have it? I placed a hand on the mirror, looking in my reflection of dark hair and green eyes, and asked my reflection "Who am I Danny?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Three Months Later…**

I woke up to the beeping of my alarm on the side of my counter, slamming the alarm off, and rolling off the bed. I started to stretch my arms, waking up my limbs from my sleep. I had rarely been sleeping in the last month, as I was running packages around New York in my new job as a courier, mainly for the Petrelli family, my boss being Arthur Petrelli – a man who's presence dominated the room, even though he wasn't of a young age, nor was he the most impressive physical specimen, but his eyes and posture allowed him to carry great weight as he walked with a powerful gaite.

I pulled on a pair of dark close-fitting jeans, a red and black striped top, then my leather jacket, pulling on a pair of converses before I grabbed my messenger bag. I walked out of the door, locking the door and ran up to the top of the building, sprinting to the edge. As I approached, my legs started to feel more fluid, more coiled. I started to exert myself, sprinting as fast as I could until I reach the edge, where I launched myself off of the edge. I soared through the air in an arc, landing in a roll among the rooftop, I carried on my sprint, jumping another alley, until I stopped, seeing the traffic below. I veered to the left, sprinting across the adjoined buildings. I jumped down onto the fire escape, sprinting down the stairs until I jumped out of the alley, crossing the road and entering the office at Kirby Plaza. I opened the door, walking inside and getting several glances from businessmen. I walked through to see Angela sitting on a leather sofa.

"Daniel." She nodded to me.

"Hey, I'm here for Mr. Petrelli's delivery?" I asked. She nodded to the thin white package on her right. I picked it up, checking the name. "Brian Davis." I nodded. "I'll get it to him." I said. I turned to go, only to be stopped by Angela.

"Do you remember anything?"  
I had recently confided in Angela about my memory problems. How I remember maths, books, poets, theories, science, history – things you can pick up from school, but not anything personal. I don't have memories of meeting people, knowing my family, knowing myself.  
"No. I know English, French, bits of Italian – but nothing new." I shook my head. "I just feel like I should be finding out who I am. Like, finding out where I used to live."  
"And how will you do that?"  
"My licence says I'm from California. Maybe I should travel there. See if anyone can tell me who I am." She smiled. "I just feel like…who I am is important. And if I know who I am, it can explain why I lost my memory – why I'm in New York. Everything." She gently slapped me on the cheek.  
"Deliver the package."

I grinned at her, before placing the packing in my bag and walking out of the large building, proceeding to run through the alleyways, before leaping up against the wall and jumping up against the wall, clawing my way up the wall by using the loose bricks as footholds.

_

"Mr. Davis?" I asked, approaching the large overweight man behind the desk. The man nodded and walked forwards. "Package for you."  
"I wasn't expecting this for another hour." He said, slightly shocked.  
"I knew a few shortcuts." I smiled, giving him a clipboard to sign.  
"Thank you." He said, offering a hand.  
"Anytime Mr. Davis." I grinned, taking the hand. I looked down at our hands, which began to glow golden for a second – no, less then a second. I felt something in that handshake – something come into my bones from that handshake. It shot up my right arm and into my chest. I pulled my arm back, grabbing my chest. I looked up at the accountant, who shook his head.  
"Must be the fluorescents." Brian Davis murmured.  
"Yeah…" I murmured. "I've got to go and report back." I said, zipping my bag up and walking out of the building, down the stairs and into the vast sea of suits on the streets. I scratched my hair, staring at my right hand. As I brought my hand up to my face, I saw a figure on the other side of the street: She wore a dark denim jacket, which matched her very tight jeans and her dark black combat boots. She wore a white t-shirt under her jacket, something imprinted on the chest of it. Her hazel eyes were fixed on me in such a way that I knew she had been watching me for some time now – she hadn't just noticed me.

I stood, frozen on the spot as a man walked up beside her, a hand gun held in one hand. He was considerably shorter then the woman, and older then myself. He was in his mid-30s. As soon as I saw the gun, I turned and started to sprint away, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I heard shouts from behind me as gunshots echoed out through the streets. Instinct took over as I turned the corner and burst through a crowd of people, who moved to let me through. I turned left and sprinted down the alleyway, racing away from the destructive duo. As I approached a turning in the alleyway, I started to get tired, panting. What the hell was happened? I didn't get tired - I could sprint for hours on end - that was my thing - my ability. I jumped up to climb the fire escape, missing the bar and falling on all fours. My ability wasn't working. I was powerless.

I turned around at the sound of footsteps to see the brown-eyed woman standing there. She was wearing a dark denim jacket, matching her skinny jeans and her dark leather combat boots.

I kicked a trashcan over in anger. She pulled out a large silver gun, pointing it at me.

"You're a hard man to find." She said in a strong voice.  
"Who the hell are you?" I asked, looking around anxiously for a way out. I had to escape - I wasn't going to be another statistic in gun crime in New York.  
"As if you don't know." She said, shaking her head. "Now, come quietly, and we can fix all of this."  
"Tell me who you are." I demanded.  
"Who I am doesn't matter to you." She said. "You're dangerous."  
"You're the one holding the gun."  
"But we both know you're more dangerous." Said a thick American voice from the end of the alley, as the shorter gunman entered. His pistol was considerably larger then the woman's. "Time to put you down." He grinned. The woman turned around to speak to him, and a shot fired off. I saw the bullet spin towards me, and brought my hands up to my face in my defence, hearing the shot whistle off to my left. I looked around at the bullet hole in the wall, looking at my hands. The man fired off another shot, which I proceeded to deflect again. What was happening - how was I doing this? But now wasn't the time for questions. If I could deflect bullets - could I control him? I reached out to the man, clenching my fist. The man grabbed his neck, flying up into the air. The woman spun around on the spot, mouth open. The man pointed the gun at me, but I threw him against the brick wall before he could fire off a shot. He fell onto the floor like a rag doll, leaving me with the woman.  
"They told me you only had one." She breathed.  
I stood there, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Suddenly, everything around me started to shake – dangerously so. The woman looked around at it all. Even the fire escape began to shake. She fired off a shot at me, which hovered in front of me. I didn't do anything. All I could focus on was how fast my mind was racing. Another bullet raced along to the first. After a few seconds, both bullets dropped. I reached out to grip her gun, bringing it over to my hands. I then pointed it at her chest with both hands. I must have looked like an amateur compared to someone like her. She simply reached out her hand and the gun began to melt in my hands, the bullets leaking out of the base of the handgun first. I dropped it, staring at her in amazement.  
"You're like me?" I asked. I shook my head. "What the..." I was breathing heavily. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. I backed up against the wall as she advanced on me.  
"You're coming with me-"  
I threw a hand out at her, shooting her backwards and into a dumpster. She fell onto the floor, out cold. I ran over to her, picking up the man's gun and pointing it at the woman. I needed to kill her. She tracked me down and tried to kill me. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't kill someone. The gun began to shake in my hand as I dropped it onto the floor beside me. I couldn't kill someone. It was insane. Why the hell was this happening to me? I shook my head, jogging out of the alleyway, and down the streets. I would go to my house, pick up some clothes and the rest of my money, then leave. I'd get out of New York, and then I would find out who I am. Who I really am. And why these people are hunting me, and why my ability has changed into something completely different.

**What? Danny is telekinetic. Yup. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. The Agents in this chapter are from Skyelah's new Heroes fanfic. I'll post a link in the next chapter, which will be up soon. Expect a bit of a time jump though.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Calmly, I stepped up in the queue at the airport, looking around cautiously. Since the attack earlier today I hadn't stopped looking over my shoulder. I hadn't told anyone I was leaving – for sheer fear of someone finding out. I trusted Angela – she wouldn't have sent them after me, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be watching her. If they had tracked me down like I thought they had, they weren't watching just me.

I showed my ticket to the woman, who allowed me to go through the cold blue tunnel and onto the plane to Las Vegas. It was the cheapest and the closest flight I could get – and I did not want to stick around in this city any longer.

As I followed the crowd onboard the plane, I was greeted by a smiling attendant, who checked my ticket and directed me to the end of the plane. I carried down into coach, and sat down in an aisle seat, a couple my own age sitting down. I was sat down for only two minutes when the flight attendant walked up to me, saying in a breezy voice.  
"Mr. McKniel?"  
"Yeah?" I clenched a fist in my pocket, ready to fight. Maybe this was just paranoia – but if it wasn't, it's best to be prepared.

"You're to be upgraded into first class." She smiled.  
"First class?" I asked, puzzled.

"If you'll follow me sir." She said, getting up and leading me to the front of the plane, where I was sat in a large black recliner, along with a lot of men in white collars and silk ties. I appeared out of place, as I was the youngest in the carriage, as well as the most underdressed – I took off my leather jacket and placed it on the arm of the chair, storing my messenger bag in the overhead compartment. The woman began to walk off, before coming back a few seconds later. "Would you care for any refreshments?  
"Erm, gin and tonic would be nice, thanks." I smiled, scratching the back of my neck self-consciously, as the surrounding elders looked at me with disapproving eyes. The woman disappeared for two moments before returning with a glass of a lime green liquid. She smiled as she handed it to me. "I'm sorry, but why am I in first class?" I asked lowly, leaning in.

"Mr. Linderman wanted to make sure you have a comfortable journey." The attendant said.  
"Mr. Linderman?" I asked.

"Yes." She said, as if the fact was obvious. "He also suggests that you visit him when we arrive." I decided to simply nod.  
"Right. Thank you." The attendant smiled before leaving.

Linderman? This was another piece to the puzzle. I couldn't help but feel like everything that had happened to me in the past three months – everything I could remember – was all connected – my abilities, the gun-wielders chasing me, this Linderman, and most importantly, my amnesia. These things just had to be connected. It was something at the back of my mind that linked these facts together, I just couldn't figure out what this big thing was.

I walked out of the airport, placing my messenger bag over my shoulder. I'd have to find Linderman. I picked up a brochure, that detailed the "must-do" activities within Las Vegas. One of which was the Corinthian Hotel and Casino. As I read the information on the Corinthian, I noticed that it was funded and owned by Daniel Linderman. The name couldn't be that common – not in America at least. If this wasn't the Linderman I was after, perhaps he could point me in the right direction. I hailed a taxi and sat in the back of the yellow cab.  
"Corinthian hotel please." The man nodded, driving forwards. He started to drive through the sunny metropolis, listening to some pop music. "You been living here long?" I asked the cab driver, figuring I could probably manage to squeeze some information out of him about Linderman, if he was this much a big shot as he sounded from the brochures.

"Three years." He replied, taking a drag from his cigar.

"Looks like a nice place." I said, gazing out of the window.

"Don't let the appearance fool you." The man warned me. "It's full of sharks." I nodded.  
"Like Linderman?" I asked. The man shook his head with a laugh.  
"Yeah. Exactly like Linderman."

"You had any run-ins with him?" I asked carefully. He simply chuckled.  
"Me personally? No, I don't associate with criminals." This perked up my ears.  
"Criminals?" I asked.  
"Yeah, you know – the mobster?" Great – a mobster practically flew me out first class.

"Right, of course." I said, nodding to myself.

"You're not from around here are you?" The question was clearly rhetorical.

"I'm that easy?"

"No, I just picked you up from the airport remember?" I grinned.

"Very observant." The cab slowed in front of the extremely large and extravagant hotel.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked. The man tapped the meter, as I took out a few notes, giving them to him with a smile. "Thanks for the ride." I got out of the cab, messenger bag over one shoulder and looked up at the majestic skyscraper that was looming over me. I walked inside of the building to see hundreds of people gambling at the slot machines, not to mention the craps tables in the centre of the vast hall.

I began to walk through the crowds of gamblers, making my way to the escalator, the top of which held a pair of large security guards. As they set their gaze on me, they touched their earpieces, nodding. I lowered my gaze, trying to walk past them, when the slightly shorter one, who stood about three foot taller then me, put a hand out to gesture me to stop.

"Mr. McKniel?" I looked him up and down in the suit, a bulge of his gun evident in his blazer. I clenched my fist in my jacket pocket.  
"Yes?" The guards looked at each other, before gesturing with an open hand to the elevator behind them. "No thanks." I said, going to walk away as the taller bodyguard stepped in front of me, hand in his blazer pocket.  
"It's not a request." I clenched my jaw, looking around. What was the quickest way to escape? I eyed the fire escape. "Mr. Linderman wants to see you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

I stood in between the two large guards, watching the elevator go up to the second-to-top floor, where the golden doors opened, allowing entrance to the large metallic room.

There were a series of paintings on the walls of strange sights – a blonde cheerleader, a man in the oval office, and another one – a boy with short hair – clipped at the sides, standing in a concrete room, with his entire torso on fire – blue fire at that. As I approached the painting, the two men escorting me, I made out a sign on the man's bare arm – a tattoo. My tattoo. I looked at the image. Was that meant to be me? How could I be on blue fire? Who painted this?

"Hello Daniel." I turned around to see the elderly man in an expensive black two-piece suit, with an expensive silk tie. His hair was pure white, like his short beard that framed his jaw line, and he proceeded to talk in his unique accent. He approached me, clasping my hand. "How have you been?" Before I could answer, I looked down at our hands – they glowed golden for a moment, Linderman not noticing. But he must have noticed – the guards did. Did he have a power? Like Brian Davis? "You can go now, thank you Adrian. Russel." He nodded to the shorter man, who followed his partner into the elevator. I turned back to Linderman. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Although, I was a bit worried when you didn't come to me three months ago."  
"Three months?" I asked, in shock. That was when I woke up from…whatever happened to me. "What happened to me?"  
"I was hoping you would tell me." He said, hands in pockets.

"I don't…" I shook my head. "I woke up in a dumpster three months ago, with no idea who I was. Ever since I've been running errands for the Petrelli family-"

"You know the Petrellis?" I nodded. "I've been meaning to speak to Arthur…" He trailed off.

"Why did you fly me down here?" He looked at me in awe.  
"You really don't know?" I shook my head. Linderman proceeded to walk past me. "You have an ability – a marvellous ability – just like your father, just like your mother and just like me."

"They had abilities? You do? You know my parents?"  
"Yes to all three." He smiled. "Your father had an ability – one that didn't warrant many uses however. Your mother, now that was an extraordinary power."

"What could she do?"  
"What you can do, Daniel – she had amazing reflexes, and strength, and agility. Everything about her was heightened. I often joked about her being a superhuman." He smiled.  
"What do you mean, could?" Linderman sighed.  
"She died 9 years ago." He said solemnly. "I'm sorry." I turned away from him, looking around at the floor. My mother. I felt sad. Angry. Guilty. Vengeful.

I leant onto the nearby counter, slamming my fist into it, trying to exert my feelings. I held the side of my head, the anger building up – and as I did so, I had an image:

_A woman walks into the dark red room with a cake – seven candles. The cake is a plain one – sponge. The lighting is hazy – a type of yellow that is seen on a faded photograph. She smiles – her blonde hair falling above her shoulders, her eyes a deep green. She wraps her arms around me – a feeling a of warmth spreads through my chest as she does so, my arms tightly holding her. I blow out the candles as the room darkens._

I staggered back, holding my head as Linderman turned around to me.  
"Mum." I said quietly. I looked at his confused face. "I remember something! My seventh birthday. We had a red living room – with a glass door leading out onto the balcony – there was an oak table out there!"  
Linderman nodded.  
"California. You have my power…" He said with a grin.

"What do you mean?"  
"I have a power to heal things – anything and anyone. When you touch someone, you replicate their ability."  
"Replicate?"  
"Yes, you mimic them."

"So, what – I can heal people?"  
"You healed yourself Daniel. Which is something I cannot do."  
"You can't heal yourself?" I asked.

"All powers have a limit. Although your just used mine at a great level – an impossible one. Your control is extraordinary."

"It's not – I don't even know how to control it."

"You did."  
"Listen, I can't remember anything about my life before three months ago. Alright? Nothing. I woke up in a dumpster."

"Rene…" He murmered.  
"Rene?" I asked in confusion. Who was he?

"There is a man – a Haitian – who can dampen someone's ability should he choose to do so. He also has an ability to remove the memories of someone."

"So, what – this Haitian removed my memories?"  
"It explains so – without any noticeable brain damage, amnesia is unusual."

"So how do I remember my mum?"

"You healed your brain cells. That's the only way you could have remembered her. If you can heal your brain cells – theoretically, you can remember."  
"Theoretically?"  
"Well, what's the worst that can happen?"  
I sighed, placing my hands on the sides of my head. I tried to focus, clearing my head. I tried to heal. Nothing. I tried harder. Nothing.  
"Heal." I said, thinking it could work if I said it. "Heal!"

"It doesn't work like that." Linderman said.  
"I figured." I said lowly.  
"Here." He said, placing his hands on the sides of my head. I looked into his eyes for a moment, that was until I shot back away from him, images spinning through my mind. Mum. Dad. Betrayal. Anger. Crime. Hunted. Power. Death. I collapsed onto the floor, breathing fast. The Haitian – he took my memories! I looked up at him.  
"How could I forget that?" I said.

"The Haitian." Linderman said. "Do you remember who I am?" He asked.  
"Of course – you're Daniel Linderman."  
"Do you know why you're here?"  
"I'm here to help save the world." I nodded. How could I forget any of this? The familiar old man smiled.

"You remind me of me." He smiled.  
"Thanks uncle."

**PLOT TWIST! Okay, so I hope you're all enjoying it. The next chapter is going to have a small time jump – but it's going to be a training days chapter. Remember to review – feedback is always greatly appreciated. Also, I'm collaborating with Skyelah – on her story Heroes: Hunting – which takes on the perspective of the agent Danny encountered in the alleyway.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Two Days Later**

I walked down the corridor with my uncle, Daniel. I was dressed in a plain grey suit without a tie, which his tailor had made for me. We walked at a brisk pace, my dark boots clicking against the black marble.

We walked through the glass doors, and into the large study.

"So, what exactly are we doing here?"

"Like I said Danny, saving the world."

"You never elaborated on that."  
We walked into the study, books lining most of the wall behind the desk. Daniel turned around, smiling at me.  
"Do you know what your power is?"  
"I figured that it was my agility." I shrugged. "But, lately it's been…changing."  
"Changing how?"

"Every time I touch someone else with an ability, it gets…transferred to me."  
"But they retain their power?"  
"Yeah." I nodded. My uncle practically beamed.

"What you can do, it's more then just agility, you can pick up the gift of others."  
"That explains a lot." I muttered.

"I've seen this before." He nodded slowly. "Your gift is a rare one. A powerful one."  
"I doubt that." I said. "As soon as I pick up a new ability, I lose my old one."

"That can be problematic." He said slowly. "Are you sure?"  
"I'm positive." I said. "I can only use one ability at a time." My uncle stroked his beard, beginning to pace around the office.  
"Abilities never stay at one level – as the body grows, so does your ability." He said. "I'm going to help you improve this ability. I think I know just the person to consult as well." He grinned.  
"You do?"

"Your gift is similar to a man I once knew – we fought in the war together. When he was your age, he found he could actually absorb someone's powers – actually acquire them." He smiled. "This is similar to that. He lives in New York. He's throwing an anniversary party in two days time."  
"He can help me control this ability?"

"Well, I can't imagine him wanting to take it." He said, sensing the caution in my voice. "It wouldn't help him much." Linderman proceeded to take off his jacket, placing it on the back of his chair as he sat down behind the desk, myself in front of the desk. "How many gifts have you taken?"  
"Absorbed." I corrected him. "And three…as far as I know." He proceeded to give me a questioning look. "Well, there was my mothers agility. This…accountant's telekinesis and your healing power."

"An impressive arsenal." My uncle nodded.

"Not that it matters – all I can do is heal things now." I said. "Not that that's a bad thing, but I already told you, I can only hold one ability at a time."

"Well, we'll visit Arthur and see what he has to say on the subject." I nodded. "In the meanwhile, I suggest you pick up a more…useful gift."  
I nodded. "What sort of one?"

The door knocked and, at Lindermans word, a beautiful girl about my age swaggered in in a pair of knee-high boots, above which, she wore a tartan mini-skirt and a black button-up underneath her leather jacket.

"Hello Candace." He smiled, as Candace walked over to him, smiling and giving him a kiss on the cheek in a paternal manner.  
"Hello Mr. Linderman." I cocked my head to my uncle at the formal mention of his name.  
"Candace, this is Daniel." Linderman smiled. "My nephew." At the last word, Candace's eyes began to flash with admiration. I grinned and stood up to shake her hand. As I did so, our hands glowed for a moment, and I received the sense of warmth spreading throughout my body, only this time, it spread directly to my head, causing me to have to lean on the chair slightly. As Candace's face turned to one of confusion and fear. "Don't worry Candace, you still have your gift." Candace's smile returned. "Would you mind showing Daniel how to use your ability?" Candace grinned.  
"Of course Mr. Linderman."

I got out of my chair and began to follow Candace.

"Oh, and Daniel?" I turned back to my uncle. "Try to pay attention." I rolled my eyes and followed Candace out of the room.

**Hope you guys are enjoying the story!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Two Days Later**

"Nice place." I said, getting out of the sleek black car with my uncle, looking the place up and down. It was a majestic mansion – the windows showing men in a series of expensive suits.

"Arthur always did like to live comfortably." My uncle said with a smile, buttoning up his black jacket. I was dressed in a similar suit. We began to walk up the stairs.

"So, this guy Arthur, he can help me control this ability?"  
"Gift." He corrected me. "You have to stop seeing this power as a burden – it's a gift from God Daniel."  
"God?" I smirked, pressing the doorbell. "You believe in God?"  
"We got these gifts from someone Daniel." I shook my head at my uncle. "Well, we'll agree to disagree."

The door opened and a waiter in a white jacket opened the door, admitting us into the refined home.

"So, who exactly is this guy?" I asked, examining the surroundings of the classy mansion.

"My lawyer." He said with a smile, shaking hands with several members of the party.

"You're kidding." I said, unable to believe it. His lawyer? Really?

"He's an old friend."

I shook my head and looked around at the sound of a tapping glass. A large man with an impressive posture stood there, dressed in an expensive tuxedo, allowing everyone to see his wealth – if it wasn't already gathered by the lavish environment. And on his arm was a familiar woman. Angela Petrelli. She was Arthur's husband? The guy I used to courier for? And he just happened to be my uncle's oldest friend? This seemed too coincidental.

I tuned in to the speech, hearing him say another unfamiliar name.  
"…and to Peter, whose compassionate love…" I noticed a man in front of me, roughly a couple of years older then myself, turn to another man.  
"I told you he couldn't say 'nurse' out loud." He grinned. Logic would imply this was said Peter.

I turned back to Arthur, who finished his speech and joined in with the applause. I looked to my uncle who raised a hand to keep me where I was and then moved towards Peter and his friend. They exchanged a few words, leaving an anxious look on my uncle's face.

I proceeded to move towards Peter and his friend.

"Peter Petrelli?" I asked, smiling.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking at me curiously.

"I'm Danny. I used to work for your dad." The second man hardened his face.

"What did you do, bury the bodies?" He asked with a straight face. His entire personality just seemed hostile. I put on a grin at this.

"Don't worry – I just couriered packages. I'm no good with a shovel." I smiled. Peter returned the smile, although his friend didn't. "Danny McKniel." I extended a hand towards the man.  
"Nathan. Petrelli." He looked to Peter, who gestured for Nathan to play nice. Nathan sighed and took my hand, looking at me, dead in the eye. I glanced down at my hand, which glowed golden for a moment. He had a power? It shot up my arm and spread throughout my limbs, causing me to lean over to the banister on the stairs. Peter grabbed me, helping me stand up straight.  
"You okay?" He asked me carefully, examining me.

"I'm fine." I groaned, pulling myself up. "It's good champagne." I grinned. Peter began to examine my face.  
"You look awful. Are you ill?"

"I feel like it…" I said, rubbing my temples. The sounds suddenly became very loud, the glasses chiming sounding like window panes being smashed onto the ground by sledgehammers. The people conversing sounded like a thousand people shouting in my ears. I grabbed by temples in pain.

"I'll take care of this Peter." Angela approached and took me by the arm, leading me into the kitchen. She placed me down into a chair in front of the island counter, and felt my forehead.  
"Clammy." She said, taking a tea towel, running it under the cold water and pressing it to my forehead.  
"Thank you." I smiled, feeling slightly better. "I didn't know if I'd be seeing you again." I murmured.

"I suppose you've remembered who you are by now?" She asked me.  
"No." I shook my head slightly. "Not really. It's like… something's holding me back."  
"What do you mean?"

"It's not like…I know there's theses memories that are missing – I can feel that they're there…I just can't access them." I shook my head. "I don't know – maybe I'm losing it."

"You'll figure it out Daniel." She smiled. "Now, I'm going to see to the door – I'll be back in a bit. Have an aspirin and smarten up." She said, giving me a pill. She smiled and held my hand. I looked down at the golden glow in my hands. She had an ability? Angela? She simply smiled and disappeared from sight, going back into the party. I stood up, having to lean on the counter. I rubbed my head – it felt like it had been cleaved in half. I looked through the crack in the door, seeing my uncle talking to Arthur. They were talking in hushed voices, but I could make out various words. Finally, I heard Arthur say "I'll kill him."

Were they talking about me? Linderman looked worried – they must have been. This was a trap – I'd been played for a fool! I opened the door which would lead back into the lobby, and saw Angela at the front door, talking to two familiar figures: it was the couple who had tried to track me down while I was in the alley last time I was in New York. The woman stood there, talking to Angela respectfully – with good posture. The smaller man stood next to her, looking around anxiously. She had a large gash on her cheek – probably from when I had knocked her unconscious.

I closed the door again, looking around for a way out. I groaned in pain, leaning on the counter – what was wrong with me? I staggered over to the side door, and collected myself – tried to shut out the pain that was inside every cell in my body. I straightened up, and kept my head low as I moved into a group of men talking about stock figures. As the duo moved into the house, I slipped past them, opening the door and passing out of the mansion.

As soon as I was outside, I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God I avoided that. I knew one thing now – I couldn't trust anyone. Linderman, Angela – no one. I shook my head as I straightened up, taking off my tie and placing it in my jacket pocket. I undid the top button and began to walk down the street. That was, however before I was alerted by the sound of the car alarm going off in the street. The girl in jeans and combat boots came running out – catching sight of me. She recognized me instantly, and drew her gun.

"Shit!" I hissed, throwing all my energy into running from her. I took a left and sprinted through the crowds in the streets, shoving people out of the way. I slid over a car bonnet, darting through the roads without time to slow down and check there were no cars coming. I made it to the other side in one piece, and darted down the alley and coming to a t-junction. I checked behind to see the smaller man sprinting at me, gun raised. I took a step and waited at the corner of the building. As the agent ran towards me, I threw out a fist, punching him in the cheek and causing him to go flying off into the wall. I made to run away, but I caught sight of the woman, who stood there – pointing her gun at me.

"Surprise." She said, with no fond expression on her face.

"Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" I said lowly, my anger building up in my voice.

"Because you're too dangerous to be left alone. Now-"

"I'll take this one Wynn."  
I looked at the woman behind the gun-weilding agent – she had long blonde hair, looked roughly a few years older then myself and was weilding a sadistic grin of glee on her face. She raised a hand – a blue ball of crackling energy appeared – like lightning. She raised a hand, sending a chain of lightning into my chest. I buckled over onto the floor, groaning in pain. I could feel my nerves being fried. I clenched my jaw as I looked back up to her. She readied another palm of electricity.

"Put your hands up." She said, grinning at my pain. I wanted to fight back - hurt her – but I couldn't do that if I didn't know what Angela or Nathan's ability was. If I could just take her ability…

I managed to push myself up, raising my hands. As soon as she was close enough, I brought my right arm down, grabbing her exposed wrist. There was a golden glow and I felt the shock fly up my arm. The sheer shock of it was enough to knock me off my feet. I grabbed her hand as she threw a punch at me and twisted her wrist, creating a horrible cracking sound. She screamed out in pain as I shoved her back, into the trash, where she hit her head against the bricks.

I looked up to the woman left standing, who raised the gun at my chest. I threw out a hand – I focused all the shocks of energy in my body into a ball in my palms and a fistful of blue electricity flew across to her. The electricity flew into her handgun, which she dropped, clutching her palm. She ran up to me, fists readied to fight. I took one step backwards as she took a strong swing for me. I pulled my head back, out of the way of her punch and grabbed her gloved hand, shoving her into the wall beside us.

"Who are you working for?"  
"Who do you think?"  
"Who?" I shouted for an answer, and she threw her head backwards, into my cheek. I stumbled backwards – unable to keep my ground. She took a kick for my head, which I only just managed to catch her ankle before she made contact with my face. I wrapped my arm around her other leg and heaved my weight onto her – causing us to both crash into the ground – her underneath me. I held my forearm against her neck.  
"How the hell did you find me?" I said, anger burning through my lack of answers. "Who's helping you?"  
"What do you mean-"

"Don't lie to me! Is it Linderman? Angela Petrelli?"  
She threw a quick punch into my stomach, then rolled me over, pinning me down onto the floor, with a short serrated blade in front of my neck.  
"Don't move McKniel." She said, the blade centimetres from my skin.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, trying to lean away from the blade. She grinned.

"I'll tell you once you're locked-"

That was all I needed to hear before I pushed my attack by grabbing the blade, focusing all my energy into it, and turned the blade a flashing blue – causing her to buckle to the side of me. I began to get up, only to be kicked in the back – which threw me onto the ground. I began to cough as I struggled to breath – the pain was coming back to me. I couldn't even stand up. I fell down onto the ground, my breathing ragged. I managed to balance on my fists and began to push myself up, only to have her throw another punch into my face. I flew back down onto the ground. This couldn't be happening – not now. I couldn't get caught now – not when I was getting somewhere with my memories. I glanced around, and saw a beer bottle lying near a dumpster. I moved over to it slightly, and as I felt my jacket and shirt being pulled back, I turned around and swung all my weight into the bottle. It collided with her face, and causing her to yelp and collide with a dumpster nearby. I pushed myself up and began to run again. I knew I wasn't fast enough. I soon felt her tackle me at the end of the alley, with both of us crashing onto the floor, I throw out a hand to stop her – another fist of electricity flue out at her. She rolled back to avoid it. I pushed myself up and leant against the building as I turned. I suddenly hit something – in mid-air. I rolled among the ground – beside a dumpster. I saw the agent point a taser around – looking for me. I threw out a hand to send another burst of electricity – only nothing came out. Nothing. No – why wasn't it working? Why wasn't I working? I panted, watching her stand still. What was going on? Why wasn't she looking at me? She moved past me, examining behind the dumpster and the fire escape.

"Shit!" She said, kicking the dumpster I was against. She took out her phone, looking at the name and exhaling forcefully. She reluctantly answered. "Yes sir…no sir, he…he got away again." She looked down, embarrassed and angry. "No, Bennet!" She shouted. "Elle messed it all up! I had him! I-" She rubbed her forehead. "No sir, I… he's got a new ability now." She paused. "Well, I don't know – teleportation! Invisibility? Flight – pick one. Nothing's ruled out here!" She sighed. "For an empath – he's not that strong. I think he can only use one ability at a time." I looked up, peering over the dumpster, to see her touching the large gash on her mouth. "No, he hasn't got mine!" She shouted. "No, I'm not coming back until I find this guy!" She sighed. "This guy is dangerous!" She shouted, glancing around at the apparently vacant alleyway. "This has nothing to do with Marie." She said lowly. Marie? Marie as in my mother Marie? She knew my mother? Maybe that could help me get my memories back. "I never get attached Bennet, that's how I get jobs done." She shook her head, composing herself. "I'll bring him back. I promise sir." She hung up on her phone and, taking a final look around the alley, walked straight past me. I let go of the dumpster and began to walk after her, only to fall flat on my face. I pushed myself up, looking around at my surroundings. Everything seemed to blur as I looked around. I closed my eyes and woke up somewhere else.

I was standing in a long hall – pristine white among all the walls, and a concrete floor. The flawless lighting began to flicker, with the walls becoming slightly more blue. I heard screams – a girl's screams. I followed the sounds of them, going through the double doors and into another hallway – another door. I passed through it – only to find another door. The screaming happened again. I crashed through the doors and saw a hallway which was nothing like the one I was standing in – the floor was covered with blood, the walls stained with bullet holes and fire, bloodied hand prints painted over the faded white paint. I looked to my left, and leapt back completely – there was an Asian man lying dead on the floor – a samurai sword stick out of his gut. I knelt down, examining him. Although, this man wasn't the only dead body here – I followed his vacant gaze and saw a horrific sight.

"Jesus Christ." I murmured as I crept forwards; bodies were strewn across – a young boy lying on the floor with a cable wrapped around his neck, and Indian man broken in half – his leg obstructing part of his face. I looked up to see the two men that had originally been following me – the man with horn-rimmed glasses and his silent partner who took my memories. They were both shot with a bullet in their foreheads. I looked over to see a Latina woman lying on the floor, her eyes missing. Blood streamed down like tears as her frown was still upon her skin. I began to walk down the massacre, seeing a man dressed like a hobo – a long overcoat and hoodie with a scruffy beard and hairstyle: he was impaled by shards of glass, lying against the wall. Another door was in front of me, only this one was open. A man's head lay through the broken window. I ran forwards and saw this man to be Peter Petrelli. His hair was significantly shorter then when I had saw him last, and his deep gashes on his cheeks seemed to be the only damage done to him. I looked past his body to see his brother, Nathan, lying on the floor – a knife sticking out of his throat. Opposite him was a woman, barely noticeable from the extent to which she was burnt. No skin was left – just blackened muscle. I saw a chair at the end, with someone sitting in it. I approached with caution, and slowly turned the chair around, only to cover my mouth in shock – the man was had a stream of blood leading down from the bullet hole beside his eye. The gun still sat in his hand. The scream appeared from behind me – right behind me. I turned around to see a young girl – only about sixteen, standing there, shaking her head in disbelief. As she did so, her head fell off to her ankles, and her body fell to the ground. I wanted turned around to run away from all this – to leave all of this and run until I forgot. But I saw a sight as the strobe of lights that revealed the group that emerged in front of me, by the double door.

A blonde man stood there, sleeves rolled up and hands covered in blood. Next to him was a woman with blonde hair, smirking. Beside her was the oldest man, whose eyes were fixed on me. On the far right was the tallest man, with a shaved head, inhaling deeply as he grinned at me. Blood drenched his hands too, but the most horrific sight was the man who walked in front of them. He wore a simple black shirt over his dress pants, and his forearms were splattered with blood, but his hands – his hands were smothered in it. His hair was dark and all combed backwards, with no traces of stubble on his chin. I shook my head as his face became clearer.

"No." I muttered. "No…it can't be…" I said, stumbling back at the horrific sight. I turned to run away, but the doors were locked. I tried to shove them open, looking back to see the man smile and begin to approach me. I tried to open the doors again – throwing my weight into them. I looked around again, to see the man right in front of me. He reached for my shoulder…

I screamed as I woke up – seeing a man above me. I grabbed his arm, as he looked down on me in surprise.

"Help me." I said desperately, breathing heavily. I finally couldn't fight it anymore, and slumped back onto the floor, resigning myself to the rest and the peace of the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

I woke up with gasps. I looked around the room, checking for the hand on my shoulder – it was all a dream. Thank God. It seemed so real – I could feel everything – the smell of blood and the humidity that gnawed at my skin…

"You're awake then?" I looked over to the man: His sandy hair lay dishevelled on his head, and a thick beard covered his jaw. He was dressed in a hoodie and a thick overcoat that fell to his knees. I recognised him – I couldn't put my finger on it. But he definitely looked familiar. "Are you deaf?" He asked loudly.

"No." I said simply. He nodded. "You have anything to drink?"  
"I…" I shook my head "sure. There's some beer in the cupboard."

"Beer? Aren't we prepared?" He said with a grin, opening it and finding a few bottles of and taking one to drink. He snapped the cap off on the side of the counter, walking around cavalierly. "So, this place seems pretty homey."

"It's a home." I said, pausing.

"That's cute. And surprising. I mean, with the Company hunting you and what happened to your mum, I'm surprised you've managed to make a home. Even if it is falling apart."  
"You get what you pay for." I stated. "You know my mum?"

"Knew." He corrected me. "Before Thompson put a bullet in her." He nodded, walking around the apartment.

"What?" I trailed after him. "Thompson? What are you talking about?"

"What do you think? Them." He said, not looking back at me – just examining a pile of magazines.

"Who is them?" I asked, taking the magazine from him and putting it down on the coffee table. He turned around to face me, amazed.

"You really don't know?"

"Know what?" He grabbed his forehead.

"You've got these people following you right? Men in suits, a big bald guy who can take away your ability away?"

"Yeah, the Haitian." I said, remembering what Linderman had said to me. He nodded.

"Bennet, Elle, the Haitian, Ranvire – they're all Company agents."  
"Which company?"  
"The Company. No initials, no official name. They exist to track down people with abilities and tag us – test us."

"But…but they have abilities?"  
"Half of them." Nodded the man. I scrunched my eyes up in confusion.  
"What does this have to do with my mum? And her death?"

"She was shot by a man who runs things there – Thompson." I looked down at the floor. I hadn't really thought about my mum's death until now. Not really. It was one thing knowing she was dead – but knowing that someone had taken her from me? It…it hurt more then anything.

"Why?"  
"She was harbouring a special." He shrugged. "Didn't want to turn you in."  
"She was hiding me?"  
"You're the perfect company tool – you're like a Swiss army knife." I began to cough. This was unbelievable – how many truths was I going to be told for the rest of my life? "A dying Swiss army knife." He corrected himself.

"I feel like my head is being cracked from the inside." I said, grabbing the sides of my head in pain. He walked over to the cupboard he had taken the beer from and produced a bottle of Aspirin. I necked two pills. "How do you know all this?" I asked, getting up to get a glass of water.

"Well, I asked your mother the same thing a couple of decades ago." He smiled. "I used to work for them." I swallowed a large amount of water, causing me to keel against the sink.  
"You what?"  
"It's been over ten years since I left." He assured me casually. "Besides, a bullet in the gut is a severance that'll definitely keep you retired." I shook my head, needing a drink. I took a beer from the cupboard and began to drink. I leant against the counter as the man began to walk around the room again – examining the place. "No pictures." He said. "For a guy who claims to have a home, you don't have the fundamentals…"  
"You were the one who accused it of being homey." I retorted. He looked back with a smile.

"So, I'm guessing you're an empath?"

"Empath?" I asked. "You mean empathy?"  
"I mean you're full of questions for a kid of a Company agent." I scratched my head.

"I don't…I don't really remember anything." I said, rubbing my forehead. "Three months ago the Haitian took my memory – he put me in a dumpster and that's where I woke up."

"But you remember him doing that?" He asked, confused.

"I…sort of healed." I explained. "I remember things – some things are hazy – just glimpses. No full memories exactly." I sighed. "I don't know – maybe the healing didn't work-"

"No, it worked. You just can't remember some things." He said casually.  
"But I should." I said, growing frustrated. "I mean – I healed my mind – I should know what happened to me."

"Maybe the memories aren't damaged." The man said. "Maybe you just can't access them." He mused.

"What do you mean I can't access them?" He looked at me for a tense few seconds.

"Come on friend – let's go walkabout." He smiled, placing the beer on the shelf beside the door and walking out briskly. I grabbed my jacket and the bottle of pills before half-running after him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

I finally caught up to him in the streets, as Claude took a woman's handbag – examining the contents and throwing the make-up out over his shoulder. I dodged the lipstick and caught up to him.

"That's stealing." I said, angry at him.

"It's utilizing my ability – you should try it; you might even end up living somewhere better then that hovel upstairs." I looked back at the woman, who was looking right through us.

"Are we invisible?" I asked him. He nodded, still rifling through the bag. "Is that your ability? You can turn invisible?"  
"Yeah, I'm the invisible man." He rolled his eyes. "Just call my Claude Reins."

"What, is that supposed to be a joke?" I asked, jogging to keep up with him.  
"No." He replied, before throwing her purse over his shoulder. "What sort of woman leaves the house without a purse?" I looked back at the woman, who was picking up the trail of make-up leading to her bag. I began to cough, zipping up my jacket to my neck.

"What did you mean up there – about accessing memories?"

"There was this man in Brazil – a telepath. He committed a string of robberies across the country – didn't wear a mask, didn't break a lock, didn't even raise a gun. The only problem was no one could remember who he was."  
"So you're say that, what, a telepath has done the same thing to me?"

"You see, he didn't remove the memories; that way they person could be healed – remember what he looked like – he was smart. He managed to create a mental block in their mind that prevented them from accessing the memories. Of course the process was tricky – and some shopkeepers would forget significant portions of their life."

"How significant?"  
"Twenty years." He informed me.

"Christ…" I said, coughing again.

"Are you sick or something – I don't want to catch something." I shook my head at him, coughing still.

"I don't know." I said. "I feel like I'm about to collapse again."

"Yeah – I thought that might've been shock." I shook my head.  
"I'm used to it." I informed him, coughing again. I earned several looks from some concerned businessmen. "It's like – the more powers I come into contact with, the more my body breaks down."

"So how many abilities do you have?" Claude asked me.

"Just one – yours." I informed him.

"Didn't I see you using Elle's?"  
"Elle?"  
"The electricity." I shook my head.

"As soon as I get a new ability I lose my old one." I explained.

"What?"

"I said, as soon as I-"

"You're an empath though?"

"What is an empath?" I asked.

"Someone who can absorb a number of powers. It's not a common ability."

"Common enough to have a category." I pointed out. "But I don't have a number of powers – only one."

"So how many specials have you come into contact with?"  
"Specials being people with abilities?" I asked. Claude nodded. "Several. Why?" We got to the street corner, where Claude waited as a vendor began to cook the new batch of pretzels.

"Empaths tend to have a certain type of DNA – a type that is flexible – so it can change to suit other people's DNA – that's how you can access the powers of other people."

"That makes sense – I've always had to touch someone on the skin to borrow their power."

"You see – your empathy allows you to understand how someone is able to possess a certain ability, and your DNA changes to accept their ability." I scratched my head.  
"I think I get it." I said slowly. "I touch someone and my DNA changes so I can do what they can do?"

"Basically, you're like a chameleon." Claude nodded. "With an adolescent haircut and dress-sense." He took a pretzel from the vendor, leaving the man looking around in awe of the disappearing food.

"Hilarious." I said, coughing again.

"I'm trying to eat." Claude told me.

"I can't control it." I said, clearing my throat. "I don't even know why I'm sick." I muttered the complaint. I noticed Claude picking up a phone and stuffing it into his pocket. "You shouldn't do that." I said. "She probably worked hard to get a phone-"

"Well, how would you know? She probably got it for free off daddy."

"You're a pessimist." I muttered.  
"I'm a realist." He replied. "Now, what you should be focusing on is how you're going to stop yourself dying."  
"Dying?" I asked, grabbing his arm and stopping him on the street corner.

"You're changing your DNA too frequently – you don't even know how to use these powers at will."  
"I'm invisible right now!" I argued.  
"Then turn it off. Go on." I knew I couldn't and so, reluctantly, kept quiet. "You don't know how to use these powers – you have to keep control over them. Now, I'm going to help you pluck them out one at a time."

"You're certain that's going to help me?"  
"You got a better idea?" I sighed. I knew I needed his help.

"Fine – go ahead teach." I said, following him.

"What was the most recent ability you replicated?

"Besides yours? The electricity." Claude nodded.

"Right, now let's get to work."

He led me through the streets until we came to upstate Manhattan. He led me up to a rooftop with a greenhouse and a few pigeon coups, and insisted I tried to use the electricity.

"Try to clear your head." Claude informed me. I closed my eyes and forced all out images – focusing on the blackness that was in front of my eyes. I quickly snapped up a hand and tried to send energy out of my palm. I opened my eyes to see nothing. Nothing had happened. I closed my eyes again and clenched my fist, snapping it open with my eyes. Nothing. I tried once more and was still unsuccessful. I turned to Claude.

"Nothing."  
"Try again." He said. I sighed and tried to find something to focus on. I saw an empty can inside the greenhouse, and picked it up, placing it on the edge of the balcony. I closed my eyes again, picturing the can in my mind. I reached out a hand and imagined the lightning coming from my palm. I thrust my hand out – nothing. Angry, I scrunched up my eyes and tried again. Nothing. Again! Angrily, I kicked the pigeon coop.

"Don't take it out on the pigeons!" Said Claude.

"It's not happening."

"Well, try something else." He said.  
"Like what?"  
"Choose another ability then – some are harder to access then others." Telekinesis seemed like a good bet. After all – I had used it pretty easily in that alleyway months back. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head again. I opened my eyes and had one singular thought – for the can to come to me. It was like a command to the can – which stayed immobile. I tried a second time. And a third. And a fourth and fifth. After my seventh I sighed. My arm ached from how much I was straining. I began coughing again.

"It's not happening." I sighed.

"Didn't think it would."  
"Then why would you-" I turned around to ask him why he bothered making me do it – only to get a punch in the face. I landed on my back, grabbing my face. "Fucking hell! What was that for?" I shouted.  
"Abilities usually manifest with adrenaline. I'm just giving you a helping hand friend."

"That wasn't a hand, that was a fucking fist!" I shouted, grabbing my eye. It felt really warm – and sore.

"Well, you could've blocked it." He said, trying to be reasonable.

"Fuck you!" I shouted, pushing myself up.

"Try it again." He instructed me.

"Sod that – I'm out of here." I said, moving to leave.  
"Fine – good luck checking into a hospital – they need to be able to see you to get you a room." I stopped in my tracks. I knew I needed his help. I hated that.  
"Oh, I hate you…" I said lowly, before turning back to him.

"Try again."


End file.
